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dirt on Dirt

Dirt Excerpt

Chapter 1

I
walked in from school and Mom immediately turned off her DVR’d How To Get Away With Murder. This was
major. Mom never turned off Shonda. My stomach felt funny because I had a feeling
that this had something to do with me.

“Ms.
Peake phoned today,” she said.

Mom faked
a calm voice and rose from the chocolate leather sofa. Her hips pushed a stack
of mail from the credenza and sent it fluttering to the floor. A shiny family
reunion reminder postcard winked up at me. She
stopped dangerously close to me. Except for the Old Navy flip-flops and the
scowl, Mom looked exactly like she did when I left this morning. Her flawless
Halle Berry haircut didn’t move an inch, but her animal print maroon, orange,
and yellow long African dress swayed with each of her movements.

“Hello,
beautiful mother. Did she find my phone?” I asked. I was hoping the hopeful
tone of my voice would soften whatever she seemed worked up about.

“No, something more serious. You lost your
phone again? We can talk about that later,” Mom replied.

What
had I done wrong? I passed my finals. I paid my fines. This year I actually
found all of my textbooks to turn in before the last day of school. No trouble
this week. I didn’t leave wet towels on the floor in the bathroom. I don’t
think. Wait, Ms. Peake wouldn’t call about wet towels. I didn’t know what I had
done. These days anything could upset Mom.

“Actually,
your teacher informed me that once again you barely passed reading.”

I looked up
and rolled my head back to rest on top of my backpack to prepare for the speech.
The brown and white mural on our front entry ceiling pulled at my vision –
colored like root beer floats.

Art
fanatics visited our house just to see our ceiling. John Biggers composed one
of his last murals, a replica of “Family Unity,” in our house.

I think Mom
asked Mr. Biggers to paint his masterpiece in the entryway so random strangers
wouldn’t ramble too far into our house to see his work.

Right now,
I wished I could sit backward in the spiral tree trunks with the kids in the
painting. The magical colors of the mural blended night with day, and earth
with sky. Four kids sat motionless while red dirt from the ground danced with
the night stars and sunrays surrounding them.

Next, Mom
would tell me about how much money she and Dad paid for the Alain Locke
Academy. She’d remind me how many Black people died so that I could live free
and read. Why couldn’t I live free, and not read?

“Look at
me when I’m talking to you.”

I nodded from
the kids in the trance back to her.

She
inched closer to me, and then stopped. She couldn’t get any closer. “Washington,
I taught you how to read and I know that you read well. So, if at twelve years
old, you don’t want to take school seriously, we won’t take anything seriously.
I’ve cancelled your enrollment in summer league basketball.”

Mom had
my full attention now. I slapped my hands over my face to stop the stinging
under my eyelids. “No, basketball?” I dropped my arms to my sides. That
escalated super fast. Cancelled? My team would never understand. My coach would
never understand. I couldn’t let them down. This summer we planned to go all
the way—Nationals in Las Vegas.

“Don’t
cry now. You can’t just be able to shoot a ball through a net and wind up playing
professional basketball. You have to go to college. And in college, you have to
do what? Read. Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, and LeBron James all went to
college. Why are you looking at me like that?” She took in a deep breath and
let out an irritated sigh.

I rocked
back and forth on my heels. Should I answer? “Mom, two of them didn’t even go
to college. And I’m not crying.” Everyone knew that Kobe and LeBron went into
the NBA straight out of high school. Everyone except Mom.

Her glare
signaled I shouldn’t have corrected her. The calm voice vanished. “You know
what? All those Globetrotters did, I
think? That’s not the doggoned point, Washington.” She balled her fists on
her hips. “The point is your teacher feels you need summer reinforcement and
wants to enroll you in summer academy. I love you, Washington, and I know how
much you enjoy basketball, but I have to say that I agree with her. This year
you are going to summer school…”

Mom kept talking, but I could
only hear four words repeating in my head. Summer school… no basketball. Summer
school… no basketball. Summer school… no basketball?

Dirt is currently available digitally in pre-sale on iBooks, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.

With diversity hashtags recently trending on social
media platforms, Dirt fills many diversity voids in middle grade literature as
an African - American contemporary time travel novella with its pre - teen male
protagonist, Washington.

Washington would rather be playing basketball in the
tournament instead of traveling to East Texas for a family reunion. He hates to
read, but takes off on his own with a book to satisfy his parents.

Washington travels back to the past where he
encounters his ancestor Square and witnesses the brutal punishment of a slave
who is found reading.

When Washington steps out of the protecting circle
of dirt, Washington fears he may never be able to return to the present or see
his family again.

"Once while listening to public radio, I heard
first person accounts of the slave narratives, Remembering Slavery. I realized that every single ancestral win was
also a win for me. This is a thought that resonated with me, and I wanted to
share that with young Americans. Reading, in its own way, is a beautiful
legacy," Thompson said.

"The book, Dirt, gives a reader a fast read on a tough subject.
Living in the times that we do, I think it’s a very appropriate image of
the past we may have forgotten. The main character, Washington, takes
on a journey throughout the all too recent times
of slavery in the Deep South. There the young encounters problems from
the brutality of slavery, to finding and leaving his first love
interest. In a small East Texas town, young Square finds his roots, his
courage, and a new admiration for the written word.
An entertaining and important read for any age, Dirt from Teffanie
Thompson illustrates, inspires, and motivates young readers to be
conscious in the new age." - Imhotep White

Photo Credit : Toyia T. Zachery

The author, Teffanie Thompson grew up in Killeen,
Texas where she spent many years playing with words on Gaynor Drive in Sugar
Loaf.

Today she lives in Midland, Texas, without her angelic oldest daughter
and creative genius son. Teffanie does reside with her farmer husband, Ginger
puppy and brilliant youngest daughter, working in education.